


Tightly Woven

by Neo_Naughtager



Category: Jroleplay (The Centricide Webseries Roleplay), Realicide - Grej (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Knitting, Multi, Other, Shyness, White Pill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27033769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neo_Naughtager/pseuds/Neo_Naughtager
Summary: Winston Don't Kill Them PleaseIn which The Party takes a much needed break and ponders their pluslove- Win Put the Gun down please
Relationships: INGSOC/Epistemological Anarchism, INGSOC/Original Character, INGSOC/Technocracy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Tightly Woven

_ Well. That was… interesting. _

Ingsoc cracks the broken door open and trots into their monitor room, plopping down in their chair with a tired sigh. Back from a long, eventful hate date with a certain doctor, they were sore and tired, but there was still work to be done; They still need to watch the cameras.

They reach out to pull their log journal closer- the book was still open from the last time they were scribbling notes in it. It was never closed. When Winston goes to watch the cameras, to their relief, most if not all of the proles are asleep. No authoritarian was still awake at this hour and the majority of the anarchists are sleeping- with of course the exception of Richie, who seemed to be devising some sort of business deal and Epan- the blasted robot, who they just saw, repairing the damage they had dealt to it. This last fact makes them smirk a little. _Gotcha, You little Brat,_ they thought. _How’s that for Off-Compass Unity?_

The party likes it when the proles sleep. When they sleep it is nice and quiet. It isn’t often so around these parts, Ingsoc often finds. There is usually some sort of commotion, always something to record, always some sort of unplusgood goings on among the proles. They pick idly at their bandages as they watch for a moment, grabbing a pen to twirl around the digits of their metal arm, preparing to take their notes as usual in the journal. Sure they had a speakwrite, issued by Big Brother himself, but the… catharsis of writing by hand was soothing to Winston. It brought back… pleasant feelings, memories they can’t quite. Though, there wasn't much writing to be done tonight- no notes to be taken, nothing occurring. Which meant they probably had some time to focus on other things at the moment.

With a soft huff, they reach into a drawer to pull out their last project- a scarf, a few rows from completion, split between two crimson needles. It was not a hobby they often had time to do- though it did help keep their hands busy when their minds wandered. Though, for better or worse, there wasn’t much apart from the usual on their minds that night. There was nothing to worry or ponder. And perhaps that was for the best. Racing thoughts are idle thoughts, after all.

Ingsoc picks up where they left off, working the yarn clumsily between their hands, occasionally glancing back up at the screen. Nothing of any note was happening, and as such they were primarily focused of the task in their hands, the pale pink yarn soft and warm as they knit. It was going to be a … a gift. A gift for their... pluslove was the only adequate term to describe the bond they had with their most beloved Jasmine- Technocracy, known by some. Though, like most of the other gifts they’ve made… there was a low likelihood of it’s purpose ever coming to be the case. Like all the rest, it would end up tucked away in the drawer, never again to see the light of day, like a dragon’s horde slowly growing.

Or perhaps, something different would be the end of this project. Maybe, for one time, they would work up some sort of courage to give it to them this time around. The rows wrap up faster than expected- on the monitors Richie was passed out in a pile of cocaine again, Ep was charging as robots do- and now they simply stare at the completed garment in their hands. The drawer was right there… It could just… Go right back in there, with the rest. No, this time would be different. Winston wraps the scarf in newspaper- the closest thing to gift wrap they had on hand- and stands with the gift. They were going to give it to them, they were, they were going to march right over there and-

With… a quiet sigh, they toss the package halfheartedly onto the bare mattress where they slept, sitting down beside it.

_ One day. _


End file.
